


How to Get Kicked Out of an Onsen (Teaser)

by ureshiiichigo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cultural Differences, Fic Teaser, Fluff, Gift Fic, Hot Springs & Onsen, Japan, M/M, Public Nudity, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 03:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ureshiiichigo/pseuds/ureshiiichigo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a teaser for a fic I started for the Sherlock Secret Santa exchange on tumblr (<a href="http://sherlocksecretsanta.tumblr.com/">http://sherlocksecretsanta.tumblr.com/</a>). Since the story idea turned from a cute, fluffy one-shot into a RAWR NOVEL, I decided to polish one scene from near the beginning for my Secret Santa gift.</p><p>This is for sasslockandjohn on tumblr. Happy Sherlockmas! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Get Kicked Out of an Onsen (Teaser)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sasslockandjohn](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sasslockandjohn).



> This was beta'd by _percygranger_.
> 
>  
> 
> _The story so far: Mycroft has sent Sherlock and John to Japan for a case. After a day of travel, they are puttering about the hotel... and John wants to try the hot springs._

Sherlock herded John towards a little sit-down restaurant near the hotel, ordering two beers and some sort of Japanese curry dish for John, and a bowl of rice and egg with some sort of fried chicken cutlet on top for himself. 

Sherlock chewed gingerly on a piece of chicken. “I just don’t see why you would want to.”

John poked viciously at a piece of breaded pork cutlet with his chopsticks. He’d still not gotten the hang of using chopsticks to cut things. “I’m not going to miss out just because you don’t know how to relax.” 

Sherlock grimaced at John. “I am perfectly capable of stripping my clothes and sitting in an over-sized hot tub. It’s not complicated, John.”

“Of course it’s not complicated. Doesn’t mean you know how to enjoy it.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Questioning my knowledge, are you?”

“And if I am?”

“I can’t let you besmirch my reputation, can I?" Sherlock asked, mouth twisting up in a smirk. He leaned back in his chair, chopsticks dangling precariously from his fingers. "I suppose I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

John chewed thoughtfully on a piece of carrot before sopping up more sweet curry sauce with his rice. “So we’re going tonight, then? After dinner.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he leaned forward and scooped up a mouthful of rice and egg with a delicate flick of the wrist. “I suppose we may as well.”

***

The hot springs entrance was located near the back of the building, through a long hallway lined with bamboo panels. Sherlock led John into the men’s side of the separator, briefly pointing at the two different kanji, which John promptly forgot. John surveyed the room - a tile floor, small squat wooden benches and buckets. A neat row of plastic slippers sat on the floor of the entryway.

"Since I don't imagine you to be well acquainted with the etiquette of Japanese public baths, I'll explain it to you," Sherlock said as they slid off their shoes at the entryway. "There are separate baths for men and women. All bathers are naked, and you may receive some attention for being Caucasian. Just ignore it." He gestured to a stool with a bucket, cloth, and water spout. "Before entering the bath you must clean yourself thoroughly with a bucket and wash cloth. Slipper rules apply. Questions?"

John pursed his lips. “So, what, is this like the Roman baths, then?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Roman baths?”

John smirked. “Let me guess - deleted?”

Sherlock let out a huff of frustration. "You're hopeless. I'll go first as an example."

Sherlock started stripping off his clothes. It wasn't until he started to remove his pants that John remembered he should probably turn around and give the man some privacy.

"John? John!"

When John turned back around, Sherlock was glaring down at John, completely nude, his shirt and trousers folded on the floor next to him.

"What?" John snapped.

"Is this too difficult for you?"

"Shut up, you prick. I'm fine." John pulled his jumper over his head and tossed it on top of Sherlock's neatly folded pile of clothes.

John started working on the buttons of his shirt, while Sherlock sat on the stool and scrubbed at himself with the wash cloth, periodically dunking it in the bucket of water. He wasn't meeting John's eyes, but John was still irritated, so he glared at Sherlock as he got undressed.

"Why are you staring?" Sherlock asked, voice soft and quieter than normal.

"Because you're a wanker?"

Sherlock shifted on the stool. "You are... making me somewhat uncomfortable."

“I’m making the great Sherlock Holmes uncomfortable, am I?”

Sherlock set his jaw, but still didn’t turn to look at John. “Yes.” 

He stood abruptly, not making any attempt to preserve his modesty, and John suddenly found the space that had consisted of Sherlock's eyes before now consisted of his groin.

John looked for just a second too long before tearing his gaze away.

"I'll see you outside," Sherlock said, and disappeared behind the bamboo screen.

"Bloody Sherlock Holmes," John grumbled, as he sat down and started to scrub viciously at the dirt between his toes.

***

"This is nice," John commented offhandedly, stretching in the water of the hot spring.

Sherlock hummed in response.

"You must've done this before."

Sherlock shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Why would I?" Sherlock asked, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "When have I ever enjoyed sitting for extended periods with no outside stimulation?"

John frowned. "There's plenty of... stimulation. The hot water against your skin, the cool breeze, the sounds of nature around us... There are pine trees out here, Sherlock! Isn't there more than enough for you to observe?"

Sherlock grimaced and sunk lower into the water. "Nothing interesting."

"Well, we could... You know. Talk."

"About what, exactly?"

"The case?"

"Ah."

"Yes, that. The reason we came out here."

"I didn't think that would be conducive to relaxation."

"If it would make you stop complaining, it'd help _me_ relax."

Sherlock turned to John, hair curling with humidity and cheeks flushed from the heat. "What do you want to know?"

John looked over at Sherlock, brow furrowed. “Why Japan?”

“Government information is being leaked. We believe the informant is currently in Japan; we have reason to believe he has arranged a meeting with the buyer in a temple near Toyohashi in Aichi prefecture. Our goal is to confirm the meeting location and identify the leak and his buyer.” 

“Didn’t you say Mycroft needed someone fluent in Spanish?”

Sherlock tilted his head, eyebrow raised. “The information being leaked concerns the Spanish government.”

“Right.”

“Is it my turn, then?”

“Hmmm?” John inclined his head towards Sherlock as he let himself slide further into the water.

“To ask a question. You asked a question.”

“Do you actually have something you want to ask?”

Sherlock’s eyes flickered down to John’s shoulder.

“You want to ask about my scar?”

Sherlock dragged his eyes away, but said nothing.

John raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I haven’t been able to... study it. Before now.”

John glanced down at the old scar. It still hurt sometimes, but it was a part of him now, and he rarely thought of it. A few girlfriends had avoided it, fearing causing John pain. Others had looked with mild apprehension. But Sherlock's gaze was rapt, curious. Something flared bright in John's chest as he watched Sherlock's eyes studying his shoulder. He'd often longed for a lover to look at him that way.

John shook away his thoughts and grinned at Sherlock, brief and bright. “Have at it.” John licked his lips, hesitant. “Did you... want to touch it, or what?”

Sherlock’s eyes widened fractionally.

John smiled. "Right then." He took a steadying breath. “Go ahead.”

Sherlock scooted closer in the water, their knees knocking together lightly. He gingerly pressed the fingertips of his right hand to John’s scar tissue. Water dripped down John’s chest, and he shivered slightly as the pads of Sherlock’s fingers ghosted against his skin.

The onsen was eerily quiet, absent of even the sounds of cicada. The pounding of John's heart drummed heavy in his ears.

“That’s the exit wound," he said, voice somehow thick, the sound getting stuck in his throat. "Bullet entered through the back.”

Without thinking, John grasped Sherlock’s fingers and tugged them to the back of his shoulder, towards the small circular pucker just above his shoulder blade.

Their thighs slotted close together as Sherlock leaned forward, and Sherlock was no longer looking at John's scar, but at John. A blush was creeping up Sherlock's neck and chest, and his eyes were wide and dark as he stared at John. His fingers twitched underneath John's, brushing against his shoulder.

It occurred to John that even though they were alone for now, they were in a public place, and they were touching. While naked. Completely, utterly, stark...

John swallowed as he stared back at Sherlock. "I-"

Sherlock's eyes flit down to John's mouth, and he leant closer. Sherlock's knee brushed against John's inner thigh, and John could feel velvet soft skin against his own kneecap...

Sherlock wrenched his hand away and fell back into the pool with a squawk, splashing John. He surfaced a few seconds later, coughing, water streaming down his face, and curls sticking to his forehead.

John took one look at Sherlock and burst out laughing.

Sherlock shoved John’s head under in retaliation.

***

Caught making a ruckus by the owner, they’d been promptly censured and sent back to their room. Sherlock, without any sign of outward guilt, casually mentioned the cultural importance of decorum in the public bath. “You know, John, they’re quite justified in viewing us as idiot tourists. We caused something of a scene back there.”

John glared at Sherlock. “You might have mentioned that we’d get kicked out for splashing each other!”

Sherlock looked over at John sidelong as he rubbed his hair vigorously with a fluffy white bath towel. “What would have been the fun in that?”

John tried not to grin as he slipped on his kimono. He really did.

“Is this like a bathrobe version of a kimono, then?” he asked Sherlock, plucking at the thick texture of the loose cotton sleeve.

Sherlock sniffed, apparently affronted. “They’re called yukata, John.” 

“How am I supposed to know this stuff?” John complained. “How do _you_ even know this? I thought you’d have deleted Japanese culture as irrelevant.” 

“Don’t worry,” Sherlock said. “I’m sure you’ll pick it up eventually.”

John rolled his eyes. “Right. I’ll be fluent in no time,” he joked. “Soon I’ll be the one running this hotel.”

“ _Ryokan_ , John.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk twitching the corner of his mouth upwards. “It’s called a ryokan.”


End file.
